Not the Man He Used to Be
by NCCJFAN
Summary: After Devan's death, Woody undergoes some serious psychological changes...Jordan finds her happy-go-lucky detective has a darker side that scares her. Eventual WJ paring. FINISHED.
1. After the Crash

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything to do with Crossing Jordan. Sure wish I did… because if I did, Jordan and Woody would have at least kissed again by now…**

**Chapter One**

It took a bullet's close encounter with his Kevlar to make her realize that he wasn't the man he once was.

On her way back to the morgue from doing a pick up, she heard through her radio that there was an armed robbery going on at the First National Bank of Boston. There were hostages. There were guns.

There had been shots fired.

She had radioed back to his precinct. The dispatcher verified that he was at the bank. Jordan was also told she needed to get there. They expected casualties. She pulled up to the bank, as close as she could get, and caught sight of him. He was going in…Kevlar vest in place. For that she was glad…at least he didn't have a death wish. _Not yet, anyway,_ she thought wryly to herself.

True to the dispatcher's words, Jordan heard more shots…then the call came out that they had the robber…and a man down. Her heart in her throat, Jordan climbed out of the van and ran to the front of the bank. Rescue workers were going in…she saw them working with the thief. She also saw them working with Woody. He was sitting on the floor…blood staining the front of his shirt. But he had his Kevlar on…what could have happened?

She tried to enter the bank, to find out, but they wouldn't let her. "We're taking Detective Hoyt to Boston General. He's fine…just need to get him checked out," one of the policemen told her. Jordan got back in her van and drove like a madwoman to the hospital. On the way, she called back to the morgue. Garret answered the phone. "I'm on my way to the hospital," Jordan told him. "It's Woody…"

Garret felt his heart sink. He was very much aware what had happened between Woody and Devan…and was even more aware of Jordan's feelings for the detective. "Has he been shot?" he asked.

"I don't know…they're not telling me anything…I saw blood on his shirt…I just don't know."

"Take your time. I'll have Bug or Nigel pick up the van and leave you an SUV. Take all the time you need."

She had been watching him closely for weeks. Been concerned about him for even longer. Hehad lost weightand dark circles ringed his intense blue eyes. The few times they had talked recently, he was withdrawn…almost listless. The energetic, happy-go-lucky Farm Boy – her Farm Boy – was seemingly gone.

He had ceased to exist the minute Devan's plane crashed into the ground.

Jordan had gone to him, to try to comfort him the same way he had comforted her so many times before, but he brushed her off…much the same way she had done him in the past. He shook her hand off his shoulder…told her not to worry, he was fine. The old Jordan would have stomped off, figuring that it was _his_ loss…and less worry for her. But the new Jordan…the mature woman, was concerned about him. Each day there seemed to be less and less of the Woody she knew … and loved.

And she did love him. She knew it. She had known it since before the vivacious blonde had entered the morgue and took over Jordan's place in Woody's life. It took losing him to make Jordan realize how much he meant to her. But now Devan was dead.

Jordan knew that she may never regain his heart again, but that did nothing to stem her emotions for Woody….her concern…her fears…her love. Despite his continual brush offs and his pushing her away, she tried to stay close to him…to watch him, simply because she worried about him all the time. He was in her waking thoughts and he marched through her dreams at night.

And today, she thought there may be even less of him to worry about

Jordan ran through the entrance of the emergency room…"Detective Hoyt?" she asked the nurse at the desk.

"He's in an exam room…but you can't go back there now because the doctor is with him."

"I am a doctor…" Jordan began, flashing her ME badge.

"Sorry…rules are rules. But they'll be finished with him shortly. Just hang around a few more minutes," the nurse replied, giving Jordan a smile.

"So he's not hurt seriously?"

"Well, he walked in here on his own… it can't be too bad."

Jordan paced….until finally she saw him come through the emergency room doors. All the worry, all the concern she had for this man washed over her like a wave. Before she could stop herself, she had him in her arms, holding on to him. Woody stiffened. Feeling his reaction, she quickly released him. _Does he hate me that much now?_ She wondered. There had been a time when such a greeting from her would have garnered a kiss. But not now. Maybe not ever again. "I was worried about you. I was called to the bank…they expected that there may be fatalities….I saw the blood on your shirt….Are you okay?"

Woody pushed passed her to get to the hospital exit. "I'm fine…You know what a bullet does when it hits Kevlar. It's stopped, but that doesn't mean you don't get bruised and your skin looks like raw hamburger meat."

Jordan reached out and put her hand on his arm to stop him. "So…you're fine?"

Woody halted and looked into her eyes…honey-colored eyes that he once could find himself drowning in. But that was a long time ago. Why had she even come to the hospital? "Yeah…I'll be fine. Don't even have to miss work. Doc patched me up and gave me a prescription for pain. Oxy….oxy…something or another."

"Oxycotin?"

Woody nodded. "That's it."

Jordan could still see the blood on his shirt and the bandage the doctor had put over his injury. That bothered her, but the medication concerned her more…especially with his present state of mind. "Be careful, Woody," she warned. "That's some strong stuff."

"Don't worry. I probably won't even fill it. You know me…two Extra Strength Tylenol and I'm fine…"

Jordan lowered her head for a moment. Finally, regaining her composure, she straightened and looked him in the eye. "Okay. But if you need me…day or night…call me. I'll be checking in on you to make sure you're healing. Don't let it get infected. And if you do get the Oxycotin, please be careful with it." She reached up and gently touched his cheek. Woody flinched. She dropped her hand as if he had burned it. Turning on her heel, she quickly walked away and drove back to the morgue.


	2. What Is Normal?

**Chapter Two**

Woody sighed and got up from his easy chair in front of the television. He had only been half-watching it anyway. After he had left the hospital, he had been ordered home…to change clothes and take the rest of the afternoon off. Most of the day had already slipped by anyway. "And if I were you, I'd get the prescription filled," said his chief. "If you get to hurting really badly tonight, you'll need it to rest."

Reluctantly, Woody had stopped by the drug store and had it taken care of, Jordan's warnings still ringing in his ears, _Be careful, Woody…that's some strong stuff._ The pharmacist had agreed. "Watch how you take this, Mr. Hoyt…especially with your other current prescription. You could find yourself in serious trouble."

"No worries," he had replied, picking up a bottle of extra strength pain reliever to go along with his prescription purchase. Pointing at the over-the-counter medication, he said, "I probably won't even need the Oxycotin. Usually this does the trick."

The pharmacist had nodded, but once again warned, "Oxycotin and Prozac don't exactly mix well together. I'm surprised the doctor prescribed this for you." Woody shrugged and paid for his purchases.

Prozac. No one but this pharmacist and his regular doctor knew he was on that drug. Not his chief. Not anyone in the Boston Police Department. Not Jordan. Not the doctor in the emergency room. And neither had Devan. He had been prescribed that medication years ago….before he left Wisconsin…when his life began its downward spiral. It helped him cope…it helped him feel not so depressed…it helped pretend to be normal – whatever the hell that was.

And he couldn't imagine his life without it. He knew there were risks about mixing the two drugs…serious risks. But right now the pain in his heart and the pain in his chest were bothering him too bad for him to be too concerned about it. His chest hurt…the extra strength pain reliever did nothing but take the edge off the soreness radiating through his body. He needed to get some sleep tonight so he could work tomorrow. The pain in his heart…that may be harder to get rid of, if he ever could. What happened in Wisconsin…what had happened in Boston…Jordan…Devan – that had been almost too much for him to bear. Jordan kept pushing him away…until he realized he couldn't love her anymore because she wouldn't return the affection. Any one way relationship was hard. A relationship with her was impossible.

Then Devan arrived at the morgue – a ray of blonde sunshine in his dreary life. She was enthusiastic, sweet, pretty, and most important…emotionally available for him. She laughed at his jokes, rubbed his neck when it hurt, and listened to him. He held her hand when they went to horror movies. He was always amazed that someone who regularly took apart dead bodies would be frightened at a scary movie. He was just beginning to really have hopes for them when her plane crashed into that mountain.

He remembered too well what he felt when he pulled that manifest off the fax machine and her name was one it. He remembered Garret answering her cell phone when Jordan had called it, trying to get in touch with her to find out where she was at. He remembered the feeling of sheer hopelessness that had overtaken him as he surveyed the crash site and realized he'd never find her…or what was left of her. He remembered the depression that welled up in him when he knew he'd never get Chinese take out for them again on Sunday nights when she worked at the morgue. He was over thirty years old now… and hadn't had a serious relationship with a woman since Annie, years ago, back in Wisconsin. He had been really praying that Devan would be the one.

If he could have only gotten her whisky-colored eyes out of his mind. Jordan. Damn her. She pushed him away so many times…too many. So when she tried to come to him after Devan's death, he had done the same thing to her…told her to leave him the hell alone…let him mourn in peace. She had changed…matured….was a warmer person, but he still didn't trust her. And today, when she tried to hug him…comfort him again, he did his best to make sure she got the picture. _It's over…I'm not chasing you anymore…I don't have the energy…or the desire. The best thing you can do is go away. I'll try forget you…you forget me._

So the pain he was dealing with was two-fold. Maybe the Oxycotin would allow him one good night's rest…so he could face tomorrow feeling better – at least physically. He had taken his Prozac early that morning. If he didn't take one tonight and only took the pain medication, maybe he'd be okay.

And if he wasn't, would anyone really care?

He opened the pill bottle and stared at the white capsules for a full minute before fishing one out and swallowing it.

* * *

Something wasn't quite right. She didn't know what, she couldn't put her finger on it, but something wasn't quite normal with Woody. He wasn't acting the same. The few times they had worked together after he was shot, he didn't seem like his old self.

Not that he really had in a long time. After Devan's death, he had seriously withdrawn from the world…and her even more so. He had told her to let him mourn in peace. And given their history together, she had to respect that. But she had hoped, after he had time to grieve Devan and whatever they had together, he would return to somewhat being his old self….her Farm Boy.

But he hadn't. And now, three months after the shooting, six months after Devan's memorial service, he was no closer to being the Woody she once knew than before. She had thought that maybe it was just her – just her imagination. However, after working with him today, she knew it wasn't. He was acting odd….too odd. She knew grief did serious things to people, but the far away look in his blue eyesthis morningand his absent-mindedness had her worried. He wasn't coping well at all.

And she wasn't sure how to help him. This was far beyond her reach of expertise. Even Lily said she didn't know how to help him anymore…and Lily was a grief counselor. Something in Jordan's gut – whether it was just plain woman's intuition or experience as a medical examiner – told her there was more to this than just Devan. Determinedly, she picked up the phone and dialed his number. His receptionist picked up. "Hello," Jordan said, "Can I speak to Dr. Stiles? It's an emergency. Yes…I'll hold."


	3. Diagnosis

**Chapter Three**

"Jordan…how wonderful to hear from you again. What's the emergency? Miss me too much and need to meet me at your apartment? Can't wait until our next session?"

Jordan swallowed a chuckle at Dr. Stiles' double meanings. It had been a personal joke between the two of them for years that he had the "hots" for the female ME. At first, Jordan had been semi-offended, but then realized it was one of Dr. Stiles' techniques that he used to successfully break through her walls of resistance. If he could get her to laugh, he had won the battle. Chewing her bottom lip, she realized Woody used to do the same thing.

"No….this time it's not about me, Dr. Stiles. It's about…about…a friend." Jordan was hesitant to reveal Woody's name.

"What's wrong with your 'friend'?"

"He recently lost a loved one under rather…tragic circumstances. It was sudden and totally unexpected. Then he got hurt on the job…it wasn't a serious injury, but it had the potential to be life-threatening. He hasn't …. He just hasn't been the same since. I'm worried about him and don't know what to do."

"Jordan, are you okay? Do you need me to come and talk to you?"

Jordan suddenly realized that Dr. Stiles thought she was talking about herself. "It's not me…honest. As much as we've talked, you know very well I haven't been hurt."

Dr. Stiles chuckled. "So what's this about, Jordan?"

Realizing she would have to be completely honest with him in order to really help Woody, she said, "Could I come and talk with you after lunch? I wouldn't ask on such short notice…but I'm really worried about him."

"Sure. See you around one-ish."

* * *

"So that's the whole story?" Dr. Stiles asked.

Jordan nodded. "That's it. Woody began a relationship with Devan. I don't know how far it progressed…if they were sleeping together….if it was serious….or if they were just dating. I just know they saw a lot of each other."

"And then she was killed in the plane crash. He began to withdraw then…pushing you aside?"

"He began to push me aside before then…when he and Devan started dating. When she died, he didn't want to have a lot of interaction with anyone. He began losing weight – or at least appeared so to me. He wasn't sleeping properly…you could tell that by looking at him. He was listless…too quiet for Woody."

Dr. Stiles agreed. In truth, he had been worried about the detective, too, but hadn't known him well enough to make a rational diagnosis. And each grief process has its own time table and its own behavior. "But now you think it's something more than just grief?" he asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. After he was shot at…hurt…he began to change again."

"And his injury wasn't life threatening?"

"It had the _potential_ to be…if he hadn't been wearing his Kevlar."

"But he put that on voluntarily…he didn't have to be forced?"

"No. So he was protected. At first, I was afraid Woody had a death wish…wanted to die. But he put on his Kevlar…so I don't think so. His behavior afterwards…that still worries me."

"Worries you how?"

"It wasn't that he didn't want me at the hospital with him that bothers me. I've come to expect that from him. He doesn't want me anywherenear him any longer. But that doesn't change the fact that I still worry about him and that I care…." Jordan stopped suddenly. She had nearly admitted to Dr. Stiles she loved Woody. She had only just admitted that to herself and Garret. She wasn't sure she wanted anyone else to know.

Stiles beat her to the punch. "Do you love this man, Jordan?" He was smiling at her.

Gulping hard, she nodded, not trusting her voice to repeat her thoughts.

Dr. Stiles smiled wider. "So that's why you're so in tune with this….This is good, Jordan. Really good."

"I don't see how…Woody doesn't love me anymore…if he ever really did."

"No. I don't mean that. I mean your walls are down…you're ready to let someone in your life on an intimate level."

"Not just anyone.."

"I know. Just Woody."

Again, she nodded. "That's what's got me so worried. It's not the fact that I expect him to welcome me back with open arms. I don't. I realize he may never do that. But I don't want anything to happen to him because I do care."

"So how exactly has he been acting?"

"Not focused…absent-minded…like his body's there but his mind is a thousand miles away."

"You know grief can take on many forms….and have lots of different cycles and time tables."

"I know. I've talked to Lily…but even she doesn't think it's grief. She thinks it's something else. So do I. But I can't put my finger on it. I was hoping you could help."

Dr. Stiles sat forward in his desk chair. On one level, he was pleased to see Jordan so agitated over someone else's welfare. She was really maturing…leaving the past behind her and looking toward the future. On another level, because she was so genuinely concerned, he wanted to help her. "So what do you think it might be? Any idea? Any inkling?"

Jordan didn't want to face it. But it had been there…staring her in the face all along. She just didn't want to think Woody would be susceptible to such an issue. Not Woody. Not rock-solid, small-town values Woody. Swallowing hard, she faced the doctor. "Yeah. I do. I think Woody may have a drug problem."

"And what makes you think this?"

"When Woody was hurt…shot at…the doctor gave him a prescription for Oxycotin for the pain.He told me he probably wouldn't get it filled…that generally an extra-strength, over-the-counter pain relief did the job for him. So I didn't really worry. I figured he threw the prescription away. And I warned him how strong the stuff was…how he needed to be careful. I've seen too many people addicted to it…But I have a feeling that he did get it filled."

"But Jordan, that's been three months ago. Surely he's prescription has run out well before now?"

"It should have…and that's what's got me worried. If this is the problem, how did he get more?"

Dr. Stiles regarded her for a moment. "I don't know. That's a question you will have to get him to answer."

"How am I going to do that?"

Breathing out a huge sigh, Dr. Stiles looked at her closely for a moment. "It's going to be difficult, Jordan. You're going to have to go ask him… not at work, but at home. And if you find the evidence, you're going to have to confront him."


	4. The Confrontation

**Chapter Four**

It took her three days to build up the courage to go to Woody's apartment. For three days she coached herself through what to say, with Dr. Stiles providing the basic script and telling her to "ad lib where your heart tells you to." For three days, she tried to see Woody on a daily basis just to confirm that her eyes were telling her brain what it was seeing was real.

Finally, on a Wednesday evening, after she had gone home from work and showered, she found herself at his apartment door. His car was in his slot in the parking deck, so he was home. She nervously wiped her hands down her black jeans before getting up the courage to knock. She had spent an abnormal amount of time on her hair and make up. She wasn't aware what her ridiculous reason was for making sure she looked good, but she was careful to wear something she knew he liked, as well as leaving her hair wavy. With her courage wavering, but her intentions intact, she raised her hand and knocked at his door. It took a minute or two, but finally the door swung open.

"Jordan? What are you doing here?" he asked. The look of astonishment on his face said it all. She was the last person he expected to show up on his doorstep tonight.

"Can I come in?" she replied, softly but firmly. "I need to talk to you."

"Look, Jo, if it's about my injury, or about Devan, or even if by the remotest of chances it's about us, the answer is no. I really don't feel like it tonight. It's been a long day. I'm tired. I want to get a shower and go to bed. Alone."

Jordan pushed past him into his living room. "No. It's not anything about any of those." She turned to face him when she was in the middle of his apartment. "It's about you."

Woody slammed the door, leaned against it, and crossed his arms. "What about me?"

"You haven't been acting like yourself lately. I'm worried about you, Woody."

"I've been through a lot. You…Deven ….the shooting….it takes a toll on a man."

"I know…but there's something else….there's still something that's not quite right."

"Well, then, what is it?"

Throughout the entire conversation, Jordan had been careful to keep her voice soft and non-confrontational. She wanted Woody to realize she was here because she genuinely cared about him and his welfare…not because she was getting ready to call him on the carpet for any wrongdoing. Taking a deep breath and making sure her courage was firmly in place, she said it: "I think you're taking too much Oxycotin."

Biting out a laugh, Woody asked, "What makes you think that? I was given that prescription months ago."

"I know. That's what makes me so scared, Woody."

"Scared? Why should you be scared, Jordan?"

"I told you that the medication was strong…it was easy to get addicted. You're at a low point in your life. It could have helped fill the void that Devan left…help ease the pain."

"Void? What the hell do you know about voids?" He pushed away from the door and stalked over to her, towering above her shorter frame. "What suddenly makes you the expert on what it feels to _lose someone forever?"_ his voice lowered to a growl…a tone that Jordan had never heard before. It hit the base of her spine and sent a shiver all the way up it.

Swallowing hard, she replied, "I do know a thing or two about losing someone you love."

Woody instantly felt about two inches tall. Her mother. In his pain, he had forgotten that Jordan had swum an ocean of grief all her own by herself. He looked down at his bare feet, the shame he felt showing in his reddening cheeks. He didn't notice she had moved out of the living room into his kitchen. He heard her opening cabinet doors. "Hey. Wait. What are you doing?"

"Where is it, Woody?"

"Where's what?"

Jordan gave him a look that plainly told him to quit lying to her. She had been lied to enough in her life. He shook his head and sullenly crossed his arms again.

"You know what I'm talking about." Her voice was still low, despite the anger she felt rising in her. She slid the coffee cups around in his cupboard until she spied the half-empty bottle of Oxycotin. Looking at the label, she confirmed her fears. The fill date was less than a month ago. "Where's the rest?"

"That's it."

Giving him a disbelieving shrug, she continued to search. Now Woody sprang to life. "No…don't do that…You have no right…."

Ignoring him, she continued to look…through the flour…through the dishes…finally in the coffee canister in the freezer. She found three more full bottles….all with fill dates within a few weeks of each other…all from different pharmacies….all from different doctors. Looking at the four bottles in her hand, she stared at Woody in sheer horror… "How could you….Woody….you know what this stuff does to you….you're a cop."

Woody lunged for her. Jordan managed to move out of the way, but he went for the bottles again, this time knocking them out of her hands. Bottles and Oxycotin spilled all over the kitchen floor, with the two of them struggling to get at the drugs. Woody finally lifted his hand to push her away at the same time Jordan made a move for some of the pills. His hand struck her across the face,throwing her to the ground.

They both paused…in total shock. Jordan lifted a trembling hand to her cheek and eye…that were already turning red from the impact. Woody was staring at her…horrified at what he had done…he had never raised a hand to a woman…not even a crime suspect….ever. And now, in his desperation to get at his pills, he had struck her…of all people. Her. It was over now. Anything they had was truly over….even friendship. How could she still care now? Hesitantly, he reached out his hand again and saw her flinch. "Jordan…I…never….I didn't mean…honest…" He slowly bent down to examine her face…in his haze of confusion and embarrassment, he never saw it coming. She caught him with a good right hook and knocked him out cold.

* * *

"You weren't supposed to render him unconscious," said Dr. Stiles. Jordan had called him after she had hit Woody.

"Yeah. Well. Desperate times call for desperate measures….and I was desperate. He's a hell of a lot bigger than I am," Jordan replied from the bathroom where she was methodically flushing all the Oxycotin down the toilet.

"How's your eye and cheek?"

"Bruising…sore….but I'll live."

"Have you got his things packed?"

"Yeah. They're by the door, ready to go."

Woody moaned from the kitchen. Jordan and Dr. Stiles walked back over to him. He was slowly coming around….his eyes showing a haze of confusion. "Wha…." He asked, gingerly holding his jaw. Damn. She could throw a punch. He sternly reminded himself next time to let her take the pills and leave. He could always get more.

"I believe she decked you," said Dr. Stiles, still keeping some distance between himself and Woody.

"Stiles…what are you doing here?"

"Jordan called me last week. She's been worried about you. We've talked quite a bit about you and your….situation this week."

"What did she tell you?"

"Just a little of this and a little of that…enough that we were able to put a pretty good picture together about what was wrong with you."

Woody grimaced and turned his head away.

"It's like this Farm Boy," Jordan said, standing over Woody…this time towering over his prone body. "You're coming home with me. Dr. Stiles and I are going to get you clean…get you off the Oxycotin. Then you can go on with your life."

"I can't…I have to go to work."

"Ah. But we're ahead of you there. I have a friend in human relations in the PD," said Dr. Stiles. "I applied for your vacation time…in your name, of course, this week. You've now got three weeks off, with pay. Your boss thinks you've gone back to Kewannee…to fish. They'll never know you're detoxing."

Woody looked at the doctor like he had lost his mind. "You're crazy…you know that?"

"Well, that subject has thoroughly been debated…but I don't think I am. I do think you're in serious trouble, son. And I think Jordan wants to try to help you out of it."

Woody then looked at Jordan closely. He could see the bruising on her face. Bruising that he had caused. He swallowed hard. "Jordan…I'm …."

"Save it, Farm Boy. You're going home with me. We're going to get you clean."

"But…"

"There's no but's, Woody. Either you do this, or I'm going straight to the chief and tell him," Jordan said.

"You'd ruin me….for good ….I'd never be able to get a job in any police force."

She nodded. "I know….but at least you'd be alive."


	5. I Just Wanted to be Numb

**Chapter Five**

For the next week she had to watch him like a hawk…he couldn't go outside… He couldn't go anywhere without her with him. Jordan wouldn't even shower unless Dr. Stiles was there to watch him while she wasn't in the room. She was deathly afraid that he would relapse and somehow find some Oxycotin somewhere. And if he did that, she didn't know if she would ever recover, much less him.

She had felt his pain during his withdrawals…she had wiped his face with cool bath towels, rubbed his back during the cramps, and held his head while he retched in the toilet. But at the end of the week, she had more of Woody back than she ever did before.

The Prozac had surprised her. She had found the prescription medication while looking for the Oxycotin. She had showed it to Dr. Stiles, who advised still giving him that while he was recovering. "It's too risky to stop it cold-turkey," he had said. So she had carefully doled them out to him – one in the morning and one in the evening. She wanted to ask him why he was on the medication…ever since she had known Woody, he had been the most carefree person she had ever met. Always cheerful, ready to see the bright side of everything. Now she wondered just how much of his life he had been hiding. And why was he hiding it.

But now wasn't the time to ask. Her main concern was his health, both mentally and physically. The physical side effects of the withdrawals were painful to watch. The emotional ones were even worse. His highs and lows tended to be extreme. Jordan just tried to be there…to talk to him when he felt good and hold him when the lows came, and with them the tears. By the end of the week, Woody was feeling better. Jordan, however, was a wreck.

She had discreetly told Nigel and Garret what was going on when she had asked for three weeks of her vacation time. She had handed them the key to Woody's apartment and asked them to go behind her and check to see if she had truly gotten rid of all the Oxycotin. They agreed to do it and after a sweep of his apartment, had turned up not no other drugs. Garret had willingly given her the time off with a stern warning. "Watch your heart, Jordan." While he admired what she was doing for Woody, he was wary that her heart would be broken one more time…that she would be lied to yet again. And with Woody sitting in that precarious position, it may just devastate her.

It was on the third day at her apartment that Woody began to really see his way out of his drug induced haze. He had woken up in her bed, to find her propped up beside him on the pillows, asleep. He had no doubt she had locked the deadbolt on the apartment door and had hidden the key…that way there was no way he could get out, but she could rest. He had looked over at her, surprised at how the role reversal felt. In the past, he had always taken care of her. Now he was firmly in her protection…and she had the battle scars to prove it. He winced when he saw her cheek and eye…they were still bruised. Without a second thought, he reached out and gently traced his finger over them….and her honey-colored eyes flicked open. "Hey…" she managed to get out, her voice still husky with sleep.

He gave her a half-smile. "Hey yourself. I'm sorry, Jordan," he said, softly touching her injuries.

She sat up and smiled. "Don't worry about it. You aren't…weren't yourself. How are you feeling now?"

"Better … I feel much better."

"Good. Think you could handle breakfast?" He hadn't felt like eating much the last couple of days.

"Yeah…I believe so."

"Eggs and toast?"

"Sounds wonderful."

Woody showered while she made breakfast. Seating himself at her bar, dressed in clean clothes and shaven, he felt more like himself than he had in weeks. Cautiously he asked, "When will I be able to go home, Jordan?"

Jordan looked up from her plate and sighed. She was expecting a battle from him now. This is when Dr. Stiles said she would really have to be strong and firm because Woody no longer knew what was best for him…at least right now. Currently, even though he was feeling better, he could still relapse if he got to feeling lonely or something happened that would once again open that yawning void in his life. And he would probably look for more Oxycotin to fill it. "Not for a while, Woody…at least until you see Dr. Stiles for a few visits and make sure you could handle being alone again without lapsing back into drug use."

Woody nodded. He felt better…but he also knew he wasn't ready to go back to his apartment. He didn't want to take the medication again, but he knew it would be out there waiting for him, with a siren's song, tempting to draw him back in. "Do you mind?" he finally asked.

"Mind? No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes…after all the times you've gotten me out of trouble…let me help you chase down leads when you didn't have to…protected me…I'd say I owe you quite a bit, Woody."

He lowered his head. "Thanks…but I really don't deserve this."

Jordan reached over and ran her fingers through his hair, like she used to do in the past when he was thinking too hard, "Yeah. Yeah, you do deserve it. And I'm glad to be the one to help."

"So what's on the agenda today…I'm not feeling sick…any chance I can get some fresh air?"

"I've got to run to the store, and into the morgue to take care of a few things. Howard is going to come by and keep you company until I get back."

"Great. So Dr. Stiles is my designated babysitter this morning?"

Jordan grinned. "If you want to call him that, go ahead."

* * *

Woody may have called Dr. Stiles his designated babysitter, but inside he knew the doctor was more than that. There was no doubt in his mind that Stiles was going to ask some hard questions….questions that Woody didn't think he was ready to answer. Questions he really didn't want to answer.

And he wasn't disappointed. As soon as Jordan had left her apartment, Dr. Stiles made himself comfortable on the couch and looked at Woody expectantly. "So….," the doctor began.

"So…..what?" asked Woody.

"How are you feeling detective?"

"Better. Still not at a hundred percent, but better."

"That's good. You weren't doing so well at the beginning of the week. Jordan was really worried about you."

Woody lowered his head. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry."

"Sorry is all well and good, but until you tell me why you were taking the medicine, and we get to the bottom of this, you know the chances of you relapsing are good."

"It started with my injury at the bank…I got the prescription filled because it hurt. I couldn't rest. I found out that Oxycotin not only numbs your body to the pain, it numbs all of you. So suddenly I didn't miss Devan so much…I just didn't feel anything. And that felt good. At least for a while. Then when I wanted to stop, I still found that I was in so much pain that I couldn't. So….I went back to another doctor, told them what happened, and got another prescription. I just kept repeating the process."

"Losing a girl you were dating to death is a big deal. Did you love Devin?"

Woody sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Did I love her? In a way, I guess. She was pretty and smart and….." his voice trailed off as he swallowed hard.

"And paid attention to you when Jordan wouldn't?" Dr. Stiles asked.

"Yeah. She was there. I….I was…I am …. Just at a point in my life when I want someone to be there…I'm tired of being alone. I want someone to be there to talk and listen to me…and I want to do the same for them."

"And Jordan wasn't ready for this?"

Woody turned and looked at the doctor. "You're not going to blame this whole thing on Jordan."

Dr. Stiles shook his head. "Why not? She certainly does."

Woody looked at him incredulously. "She shouldn't."

"Well, she does. She believes that if she would have made herself more available to you after Devin's death, this wouldn't have happened."

"She tried….but I wouldn't let her. I wanted to be alone…for a little while at least."

"But then you didn't and she wasn't there?"

"It wasn't that…I didn't want to be pushed away by her again….like she had in the past…draw me in near to her then give me the cold shoulder."

Dr. Stiles regarded Woody for a minute. "So…the reason you kept taking the Oxycotin was because you missed Devin and hated being alone….but when the one person who you really wanted to be with, reached out to help you, you pushed her away because of your past history with her. Have I got that right?"

Woody nodded.

Dr. Stiles continued. "The pain in your personal life was so bad that you wanted to be numb."

Again, Woody nodded.

"Did you really love Devin, Woody?" Dr Stiles rephrased the question and asked it again.

This time Woody shook his head. "No….I thought I could. I hoped it would develop into something…but it hadn't reached that point yet."

"Why hadn't it, do you think? I mean, you had been dating her for a while."

Woody turned away and looked out the window of Jordan's apartment. It was turning spring now….the buds were just beginning to show on the trees and he could see the pointed leaves of the buttercups and crocuses pushing their way up through the soil. Spring…the universal sign of rebirth….he felt so dead inside that he doubted he could ever feel hopeful or reborn again. Much less imagine that anything between himself and Jordan be resurrected. Especially now…after he struck her. His throat constricted. She had no idea how eat up with guilt he felt every time he looked at her face…even though the bruising was quickly fading physically, in his mind he still saw the ugly black, blue, and red tinged marks on her face. Finally he answered Dr. Stiles' question. "Because….every time I held Devan's hand….or touched her face….or kissed her….I wished it was her."

"Her?"

"Jordan." The answer came out of his mouth in a ragged whisper.

"So the real source of this pain is not so much Devin's death – not that you didn't care about her or grieve her – but it's the fact that Jordan kept pushing you away and you loved her."

Woody nodded. He didn't trust his voice to answer.

"I don't think she's pushing you away now, son."

"No…she's doing this out of a sense of guilt….or that she owes me for something…"

"I don't think that's it. When Jordan came to me, she was genuinely concerned and worried about you because she cared so much…those were her exact words."

Woody gave the doctor a puzzled look and Dr. Stiles was just about to elaborate when they heard Jordan's key in the door and soon she was unloading groceries in her kitchen. "Hey….did I miss anything?" she asked as she sat down the bags.

"No…no…just a little guy talk…you know, football and things like that…Patriots and Girls Gone Wild III….you know."

Jordan rolled her eyes and looked over at Woody….a worried look crossing her face. He was still facing the window, but in the reflection she could see the tears rolling down his face.


	6. Coming Clean

**Chapter Six**

Woody continued to work with Dr. Stiles through the rest of the week. He knew he only had three really good weeks to get back on the road to recovery…the road to health…the way back to his life becoming normal without the numbing effects of Oxycotin.

And it hurt…digging up all the past issues. Jordan, bless her, would leave the apartment when Dr. Stiles came over. Going to Dr. Stiles' office was out of the question. His department and chief still believed he was on vacation in Kewanne, fishing with his brother. Woody was grateful she allowed him and Dr. Stiles total privacy as they began to address the detective's personal demons.

Dealing with his past was harder than he expected. It was so much more than Devin he was trying to numb himself from remembering. More even than Jordan and her seemingly continuous rejection of him. It wasn't until his second visit with Dr. Stiles, that he was asked about the Prozac. He hesitated on telling the doctor exactly why that had been prescribed.

"How long have you been taking it?" Dr. Stiles had asked.

"Since before I came to Boston."

"How long before then?" Howard knew that Woody had been in Boston nearly four years.

"About three years…."

"So you've been on Prozac nearly seven years?" The amazement in Dr. Stiles' voice ringed every word.

Woody nodded.

"Why?"

Woody pulled up short there. "It's a long story…that happened a long time ago…and I really don't want to talk about it."

Sensing that Woody was closing up on him, Dr. Stiles tried to readdress the issue. "Don't want to or can't, son?"

Woody looked at his shoes…. "Both," he managed to get out in a broken whisper.

Dr. Stiles just sat and looked at him. Woody gazed back at the man for a minute, then got up from his chair across from the doctor and walked over to the window. The robins were returning…Spring was here. Everything was new and fresh …. Innocence seemingly bathed the earth one more time. He wished he was innocent again…he wished he felt clean. Maybe, if he unloaded some of the burden he was bearing, he would at least feel lighter…that he wouldn't have to carry the whole load himself. The only other person in the whole world who remotely knew what he felt like was Cal….and even he didn't know fully. Woody had kept everyone as sheltered as he could from the past – his past. Maybe, in the long run, that hadn't been such a good idea. Maybe he should have opened up years ago…if he had, maybe he wouldn't be in this mess. Finally, bit by bit….issue by issue, it all came out…

"That's it?" Dr. Stiles finally asked.

"Yeah." Woody sat back down, his shoulders were slumped with weariness…but his heart was feeling lighter. At least one person in Boston knew….even if it wasn't the person he really wanted to know.

Stiles let out a low whistle. If anything, he now understood the young detective much better. He knew why the effects of the Oxycotin were so appealing. He knew why Woody had to stay on the Prozac. If he didn't he probably would have gone into emotional meltdown. Leaning forward, he asked Woody, "Do you want to stay clean?"

Woody looked at the doctor as if he had said something incredibly stupid. "Of course I do."

"Even get off the Prozac?"

Woody shook his head. "I don't know if I ever could…"

"I think you can. I think you will….I just think you need to do slay those demons of the past that keep tormenting you."

"And how do you propose I do that?"

Dr. Stiles sat back in his chair. "That is a question I can't answer for you…you know better how to answer that than anyone else. I just recommend that you don't do it alone."

"You'll help me?" Woody suddenly felt he depended on the psychiatrist more than he wanted to admit.

"I'll be here anytime you need me. I just suggest that you take someone along that really cares about you."

Woody raised an eyebrow.

"Jordan. She needs to understand. She's hip-deep in this, too. And she hasn't asked any questions….just been here to take care of you, feed you, comfort you….it would be nice if she knew why you were putting her through all of this. She's been pretty open with you about her past….or as open as Jordan Cavanaugh gets. I think you owe her that return favor."

Woody lowered his eyes. "I don't know…if anything, it's as bad as her own history, if not worse. Maybe I shouldn't unload this on her. It might be too much."

Dr. Stiles regarded Woody for a moment. Then leaning forward in his chair again, he said, "If there are two things I've learned about Jordan in the past several years, it's first that she's a lot tougher than she looks. She may seem little….petite…even delicate at times, but the girl is built out of steel. And second, she has a more than little experience about slaying demons herself. She's killed off a few of her own lately and I have a feeling she'd be happy to help you with yours."

Woody nodded.

* * *

He was a cop. He knew how to interrogate. He had earned a reputation with the Boston PD for being one of the best interrogators they had….his seemingly simplistic, naïve nature threw suspects off. They felt they could trust Woody, and as a result, would often tell him much more than they would other policemen, and far more than they intended to tell anyone. Then, just when the suspects would think they had Woody firmly in their corner, he would go for their throat….throwing them off guard. He was a shark in the interrogation room.

And while his law enforcement training had helped, it was a lesson he learned early on in life that really helped him in his career: Meet the problem head on. Even if the lady in the interrogation room seemed too nice to have killed her husband in his sleep, the odds were that she did, and you had better accept that fact and work with it. Jordan had often fussed at him for being too closed minded, but the facts were the facts and you best deal with them rather than beat around the proverbial bush.

That was what Woody knew he was going to have to do now. He had to meet his demons face-to-face….head on. Confront them and get rid of them. He had two problems. First, the big, ugly monsters that taunted him weren't so much in Boston. They were in Kewuanne, Wisconsin. And second, despite what Dr. Stiles had said about taking Jordan with him, he felt that he needed to deal with his issues first. Then he would tell her what made him succumb to the temptation of the Oxycotin. Dr. Stiles had been right about one thing. She needed to know. Even if they could never pick up the pieces of their past and put them back together…even if their relationship could never be resurrected or resuscitated, she deserved to know why he really wasn't the man she thought he was.


	7. Final Goodbyes and Apologies

**Chapter Seven**

"You're going where?" Jordan asked, her voice tinged with anger, astonishment, and worry.

"Home. Back to Kewuanne. For a few days, at least," Woody replied, gathering up his things from her apartment.

"Why? Do you think you should go by yourself now?" He had only been talking with Dr. Stiles for a week and a half.

Woody glanced at her. Seeing the worry that was wrinkling her forehead and the concern that was in her eyes, he walked over to her and gently ran his hands down her arms. "I'm only going for a few days. I promise…no funny stuff. No drugs…just my Prozac. I won't do anything stupid. I'll have my phone. You can call me every fifteen minutes if you feel like you need to check up on me.

But Jordan, this is something I really need to do. You don't know everything about me. Not my past…not what makes me the way I am. You don't know the reason I take the Prozac. All of those answers lie back in Wisconsin. And those are the issues I'm going to have to go back and face. I can't deal with them here. The people and the events that really caused me to turn to drugs for relief aren't here in Boston. It's those people, and ghosts in some circumstances, I'm going to have to deal with."

"Then take me with you. I have the time off."

Woody tightened his hands on her arms, as if to reassure her that he would be okay. "No. Not yet. I need to do this by myself. Just like you had to do with the issues surrounding your mother, father, Malden, and James."

She nodded. She understood, but could feel her eyes filling with tears. "But what if…what if things get really bad for you…what if…what if..."

Woody pulled her to him and gently hugged her. During the past week or so he had stayed at her apartment, she had taken the couch and given him the bed while he was recuperating. It was only recently that he had objected, waiting until she was asleep, then carrying her to the bed and tucking her in, and taking the couch himself. He owed this lady more than he could ever repay. And if he came out completely whole on the other side of things, he would owe her his life. A debt he was more than willing to pay.

But until he knew for sure that the demons that constantly tormented his soul and wrestled with his thoughts in the back of his mind…until he knew they were truly gone, he couldn't repay that debt. His goal was to come back to her a complete man…whole and healthy…the kind of man she deserved. The kind of man he wanted to be.

"I'll be fine, Jo. Honestly. Cal is going to be there. I've already talked to him. He won't let me get in any trouble."

"Does he know…about the Oxycotin?"

"Yeah. I told him."

"What did he say?"

"He was just surprised that I hadn't done something like this before." Woody kissed the top of her head and went back to packing. "I leave this afternoon. Dr. Stiles is going to be by here to pick me up in a few minutes."

Jordan sat down on the bed beside the suitcase. "He's okay with you doing this?"

"Sort of. He wants me to go. He didn't want me going by myself, though. But when I told him Cal would be there, he was okay with it."

Jordan nodded and looked up at him as he zipped the top of his suitcase closed. She would miss him and worry about him far more than he would ever know. And then there was the niggling worry tickling her mind that he may decide he still liked Wisconsin and decide to stay there. Quietly she asked, "You will be coming back…to Boston?"

Woody took her hands and drew her to her feet. Looking deep in her eyes, he read the concern. "I'll be back, Jordan. I'll be back within a week. I promise." Pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, he grabbed his suitcase and headed downstairs to wait for Dr. Stiles.

* * *

"There's somewhere I'd like to go first, before we head to the airport," Woody told Dr. Stiles as they loaded his suitcase into the car.

"I thought we were leaving kind of early for you to catch your plane. You drive," the doctor said, tossing the keys to Woody. Woody pulled the car into the afternoon traffic and soon Dr. Stiles knew exactly where they were heading…the crash site…the place where Devan's plane went down so many months ago. "Are you sure you really need to do this?" he asked the detective.

"Yeah. It's part of it." Woody knew that while he had told the young ME goodbye at the site weeks ago, he had never really faced up to the fact that the relationship they had would have never worked out. He had pinned his hopes and dreams on something that would have eventually hurt the both of them very badly. Even if Devan hadn't been on that plane or by some miracle she had survived, what they had together wouldn't have lasted beyond Chinese take out on Sunday nights. He wasn't coming back to say goodbye again to Devan. He was coming back to apologize.

He climbed out of his car at the site and walked over to the black hole that still scarred the earth and still smelled of jet fuel. It pained him to know that she…or what was left of her…was still there. Squatting down, he wordlessly stared at the place of impact for a long time…letting his thoughts drift back to her. Her laugh, her eyes… her jokes. They way she would listen to him intently with her chin on her hand. Her boundless energy…her enthusiasm for solving the most difficult case. He smiled. _Sorry, Dev,_ he thought. _God knows this wasn't fair to you…you were only trying to help someone and look where it got you. But I have to be honest…as much as I liked you, I didn't love you. At least in the way you wanted me to…or deserved to be loved. You were right. Jordan still has my heart. I didn't want to believe you, but you were right when you said it probably would have never worked out between us. But I miss you…you were my friend. A good friend. I'll remember you. Always. I'm so sorry this happened to you…and I'm so sorry I couldn't love you…and for one last time I just wanted to let you know you were right. I was never over Jordan. I never will be. I never want to be. I'm just not sure I deserve her anymore than I deserved you._

Dr. Stiles came over to him as he stood. "Are you all right Woody?"

"Yeah." The catch in his voice was evident.

"Final goodbyes are always tough."

"Final goodbyes and final apologies."

Dr. Stiles gave the detective a sharp look. Finally, putting his arm around Woody's shoulder, he said, "Yes. Yes they are. And it's a wise man that finally says both."


	8. Can You Really Go Home Again?

**Chapter Eight**

Woody squinted against the bright sunlight that caught him off guard at the Milwaukee airport terminal. Looking through the crowd of passengers and greeters, he finally found him, leaning against the wall, flirting with a flight attendant. "Cal…." He called out.

Cal pulled his lanky frame away from the wall and made his way over to his older brother, greeting him with a hug. "Hey, bro," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Better…I feel better."

"You sound better. Let's get your luggage and get out of here."

They retrieved Woody's luggage and made their way out to Cal's SUV and climbed in. "You sure staying with me in Milwaukee is such a good idea? When Aunt Jean finds out that you didn't come straight to her house, there's going to be hell to pay."

"Yeah. I know. But I'll deal with her then. Right now, what I've got to do is more important than any of their feelings."

Calvin looked over at his brother. Woody was thinner…and paler than he had seen him in a long time…not since…anyway, that was years ago. "This is important to you, isn't it Wood?" he finally asked.

Woody turned and looked out of the passenger window. Through his sunglasses he could see the traces of snow that still lingered in Wisconsin, even though the calendar said it was spring and Easter was right around the corner. Calendars – time itself – didn't mean a whole lot in Wisconsin. Especially Kewuanne. Things moved at a slower pace than in Boston. People were friendly, but stayed out of your business. Perhaps if things were a little more different here, then he wouldn't be in this position. Finally, he answered Calvin. "Yeah. It is. I can't move forward until I deal with the past. If I don't, it's going to come back and haunt me for the rest of my life…be out there to grab me by my throat and slit it if I'm not careful."

"Does Jordan know you're here?"

"Yeah."

"Does she know why?"

"Sort of."

"So you haven't told her everything?"

Woody shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "No. I can't. Not yet. Not until I've dealt with it myself. Then I'm going to tell her. I owe her that much."

"Still love her?"

Woody nodded.

"She love you?"

"I know she cares….but I don't know if that's love for her or not. I know I don't deserve for her to love me…not until I'm sure I've dealt with my demons the same way she's dealt with hers."

Cal was silent for a moment. Woody was the oldest of the Hoyt brothers. And he had always been the typical, oldest child…reliable, dependable, responsible….quiet. But Cal knew that underneath that "good boy" exterior, Woody hid some deep, undeniable hurts. He thought that his brother had gone to Boston in order to deal with them and get over them. Now he realized that Woody had just been running. He had no idea Woody had been on Prozac all these years. Like Jordan, he wondered just how much of Woody he really knew. Woody had often complained about the emotional walls Jordan had erected through the years to protect herself. Calvin now questioned just what walls Woody had built around himself to keep others from knowing the real man behind the name Woodrow Hoyt. "We're here," he said quietly, pulling into a sprawling apartment complex south of the Milwaukee airport.

* * *

The ringing of her cell phone jerked Jordan awake. "Cavanaugh," she said into the receiver, her voice still husky with sleep.

"Hey. It's me. Just wanted you to know that I got here all right," said Woody.

"Woody…" Jordan looked at the clock beside her bed and realized it wasn't midnight yet in Wisconsin.

"I'm sorry…did I wake you up?"

"No…I just laid down."

"You're a terrible liar, Jordan."

"No…really, I swear…."

Woody chuckled. "I'll let you go back to sleep.'

"No…how was your flight?" She missed him more than she could say….and her worry levels were on overload.

"Uneventful. Quiet…except for the screaming three year-old two rows in front of me."

Jordan laughed. "There's always one on every plane. How are you feeling, Wood?"

Woody sighed. "Tired. Antsy. I need to do this, Jo. I really do. But it's hard, you know? Digging up the past to bury it again…"

"I know, Woody," her voice was soft with concern. "I really do. But keep in mind, this time when you bury it, it will truly rest in peace. And you'll be able to have peace yourself."

"I hope so, Jordan. You have no idea how long it's been since I've really been able to let my mind rest. I've wrestled with so much for so long…." His voice trailed off.

She caught the hesitation in his voice. "Do you need me to come out there?"

"No…I don't think so…not now. I need to do this alone."

"I understand. I really do. But if you need me…"

"I know….and I will…call you. Hang on…Calvin wants to talk to you."

"Jordan!" said Calvin, grabbing the phone from Woody's hand and stepping into the bathroom and locking its door, keeping Woody on the other side.

"How's he doing, Cal?"

"He's pale, and thin, and looks like hell. What happened? He hasn't told me much other than he's had some trouble with Oxycotin."

Jordan gave him a brief rundown of everything. "Look, Cal…I still have a week and a half off of work and can take more time if I need to. If Woody needs me…or you feel like I need to be there, will you call me?"

"Yeah, sure, sweetheart." Calvin wrote down her number on a piece of paper and shoved the number in his wallet. He made sure Jordan had his cell phone number and apartment number, too. "Look, gotta go. I've been hiding out in the bathroom so Woody couldn't get to me and he's about to beat down the door to find out what you're telling me. I'll be in touch."

"Watch him like a hawk, Cal."

"Will do, sweetie. Want to say goodbye to your Farm Boy before we hang up?"

"Sure do."

Calvin opened the bathroom door a crack and handed the phone out to Woody. "She wants you…." he snickered. "Don't see why…when she could have me."

Woody rolled his eyes at his brother. "He's a real charmer, you know…" he said into the phone.

"Must run in the family. His brother's one, too."

Woody felt his face flush. "I…I guess I need to go."

"Woody – take care of yourself. Be careful."

"I will. I promise. You do the same…okay?"

Woody said goodbye and hung up the phone. Calvin was still propped against the bathroom doorway looking at him.

"So what did she tell you?" Woody asked.

"That she's worried as hell about you and for me to keep an eye on you."

Woody nodded. He thought as much.

"You should have told her you loved her."

"Now's not the time, Cal."

"Maybe not…but you should soon." Cal was afraid that Jordan would slip away from Woody, and in his opinion, Jordan was the best thing that had walked through Woody's door in a long time.

"Believe me, bro. When the time is right….I will. I just have to do this first."

"So when do we start? I only have a week off of work and then the Easter holidays."

"Tomorrow…first thing."


	9. Slaying the First Demon

**Chapter Nine**

Woody had forgotten how cold Wisconsin was. Not that Boston was much warmer. He pulled his coat closer around him and dug his winter gloves out of his pocket. "Don't you have heat in this thing?" he asked Cal, indicating his SUV.

"I do…it just takes it a while to warm up." Cal was driving his brother out to Kewuanne, which was about 45 minutes outside of Milwaukee. "Give it a minute."

It had been a long time since Woody had been back in Kewaunne. Once he left it behind…left Annie and the memories, he had vowed never to return. Each Christmas, he had told his Aunt Jean that he couldn't come home because he had to work – he was new on the force and would have to take holidays for a while until his seniority was built up. Then he could come home for Christmas and New Years.

But that had never happened. After a while she had quit asking, as if she sensed Woody didn't want to be at home and face the memories that it held for him. Instead, she had always mailed out his Christmas presents and he had always sent her flowers for the holidays…and Mother's Day…and her birthday. "Just…Woody…when you meet the right girl, please bring her home and let us at least meet her once," Aunt Jean had begged.

And he promised her that he would. As soon as he did. If he ever did. He thought he had…but he couldn't be sure until he finished this.

"Damn, it's muddy from all the snow," Cal complained as he pulled his SUV off the main highway and onto a back country road.

Woody nodded, silent at the memories the countryside was bringing back to him. There was the elementary school he attended… and the middle school…and the high school. He had been picked on a lot in elementary school and middle school. He had been chubby….and had stuttered. It wasn't until high school that he had gained a little ground under his feet. Suddenly his muscles had grown into his lanky six-foot-four-inch frame and he found himself a football star…And his stutter hadn't mattered. The girls thought it was cute…they thought he was cute.

But his dreams were cut short all in one night…

He heard the transmission shift in the car as Cal put the vehicle in park. "We're here, " he announced. He looked closely at his brother. Woody hadn't eaten hardly anything since he had been in Wisconsin. He hadn't slept much at all, either. Cal had heard him tossing and turning all night. Calling out for Jordan a couple of times. Now he was as worried as she was about Woody. "You sure you don't want me to come with you?"

"Give me a few minutes….then come."

Cal nodded and Woody got out of the car, slowly walking through the gate that surrounded the graveyard of St. Paul's Catholic Church. He walked down the main path and took the third one to the right. At the end, in the Hoyt family section, he paused in front of his parents' graves. He squatted down looked at his mother's name. She had died when Woody was four, and to be honest, he really didn't remember much about her. She was kind. And sweet. And loved him. She had him and Cal less than two years apart. After she had Cal, it was like she had never really gotten well. The doctors diagnosed her with lymphoma. She had lived less than two years after that. One day his mother was baking cookies and taking him to preschool…the next day, they were sealing her in a casket and putting her in the ground. His world…his stability… had been ripped out from under him and he hadn't been the same since.

Life had been tough on his dad after that. At first, Grandma Hoyt helped out all she could…then she got sick and died, too. At that point, the boys were old enough to take care of themselves most of the time. Woody had tried hard to please his father…getting himself and Cal up, fed, and off to meet the school bus. Making good grades, making sure Cal did his homework, cleaning the house, cooking dinner. Looking back, Woody wasn't sure how he managed it at the age of twelve. The age when most boys his age were out playing ball after school and noticing girls. He tried hard to please his father.

And always felt like he had failed miserably. His father always found something to criticize…something that fell short of perfection. The stress the boy found he was under manifested itself in a speech impediment. Woody stuttered. Often uncontrollably. To this day, if he ever found himself in a highly stressful situation, he would often relapse into the stutter.

But he had worked hard on it after he was in high school. He had a wonderful speech therapist at Kewuanne High that helped him. By the time he was out of his freshman year, the stutter was nearly gone. That boosted his confidence. He began to talk more…try to have more friends, even though he still worked hard to take care of Cal and the house. Then the football coach came and talked to him one day after school. He had been watching Woody during sprints in PE class. He thought he would do well playing football. He encouraged Woody to try out for the junior varsity team that summer.

Excited by the coach's praise, Woody began to lift weights and run. His father had laughed at him, but that did nothing to dampen the young man's spirits. He kept at it – as well as keeping his grades up and the house and Cal. He amazed even the coach when during summer tryouts, he completely passed the junior varsity team and made the varsity team. He lettered the next year.

The town had gone crazy over him. There wasn't a lot going on in Kewuanne…and their high school football team was both their pride and main source of entertainment. Woody found himself a sort of local celebrity. For the first time in his life, things were looking up. His junior year was just as successful. He was the leading runner. Colleges were already beginning to whisper his name. He made the all-state team.

Everything had been going great until that weekend. That god-awful weekend that Woody could still see in his mind. It played over and over on an endless loop in his brain. Alcohol wouldn't even dim the memories…and neither did Jordan…or Devan.

That weekend when his world turned completely upside down. His father had been on another weekend bender. His dad didn't drink all the time…but sometimes the bitterness he felt about his wife's death overcame all reason. Most of the time the resentment he felt about being left with two boys to raise manifested itself with the belt. Any little thing that Woody or Cal did to irritate his father….they would be beat. His father's belt would come out of his pants in a flash and land on the backs and backsides of the two boys. Woody would often throw himself over Cal to protect the younger boy. The beatings continued until the day his dad died.

The day he died. That weekend. His dad was coming out of the drunken haze he was in…he had to go to work. He was a deputy sheriff. He was called to a robbery at a gas station and walked in on the 18 year-old pulling the heist. Before his dad could react and reach for his revolver, the teenager pumped five shots into his father. His dad had lingered in the hospital for ten days before he died in Woody's arms.

And Woody's world had altered forever. After the debts had been settled and the house sold, there wasn't a whole lot of money left. The sheriff's department had issued some benevolence funds for the two boys to be held in a college trust. Woody and Cal went to live with their father's sister, Aunt Jean, and her husband, Lloyd. Lloyd was dairy farmer that didn't have much use for high school ball. Woody never played another football game in his life. He worked the dairy farm with Uncle Lloyd. Woody had never complained, but he knew that was the point where the downward spiral in his life began to accelerate. He graduated a nobody from high school without any college football offers.

"You were a piece of work, you know that?" he whispered to his dad. "You could have at least left life insurance or something…a will…but no. You died just like you lived…for yourself." Woody stood up and sighed. "But you're dead now…and it's over. You can't hurt me anymore. I may not have ended up being a college football star, but that's okay. I'm a detective…and I like my life. So it turned out fine. I just wish …." His voice broke.

"Woody?" Cal came up behind him and put his arm around Woody. "Are you going to be all right?"

"Why was Dad like he was, Cal? I tried so hard to please him…"

"Wood, it wasn't you. Dad wasn't happy with anything or anybody after Mom died. She was the love of his life. Aunt Jean said he died a little each day after Mom passed away. He didn't know what he was doing at the end…he was just in pain. No one could have made him happy…not you…not me…not anyone."

"But I tried so hard…."

"I know. I remember. I remember how hard you always worked. But it's time to let it go, Woody. Let him rest in peace…let you get some peace. It doesn't matter now. Let it go."

"Have you?"

Cal laughed. "Yeah. Years ago. When I realized that the only person I had to answer to now was myself…and as long as I could look myself in the eyes in the mirror with no regrets, that was all that mattered."

"I just wish….I just wish I could have understood him better…that he would have talked to us more about how he was feeling…"

Cal nodded. "I do, too. But men of his generation didn't do that. They weren't supposed to have feelings..."

Woody swallowed hard. He knew that. But now, after all those years of hating his father, at least now he felt some closure…some peace. Maybe now he could walk away from this gravesite and not see it nearly every night in his dreams.


	10. Putting The Past to Rest

**Chapter Ten**

"Did you tell Aunt Jean we were coming?" Woody asked Calvin the next day as they started out. After the trip to the cemetery, Woody had been too exhausted to go by and see the rest of his family.

"I called her to tell her I was dropping by….I didn't tell her you were with me. Thought you may want to surprise her."

Woody nodded. That might be the best tactic. Aunt Jean was now a widow…Uncle Lloyd had died about two years ago from a massive heart attack. Woody hadn't gone back home for the funeral. More memories flooded his mind as Cal once again pulled off the main highway onto the back country roads of Kewuanne, Wisconsin. Not much had changed…there were still the fields….and the cows….hundreds of them, it seemed. He chuckled to himself when he remembered Jordan's description of Wisconsin…_fields of cheddar and Brie waving in the wind…_She hadn't been that far from the truth. The only difference was that the cheese was still on the hoof.

Cal pulled into Aunt Jean's driveway and they both stared at the house they had spent the remainder of their teenage years in. Cal lived here longer than Woody. After his senior year in high school was over, Woody had left for Wisconsin State and stayed there, majoring in law enforcement…only returning for brief visits during the holidays and summer. Even when he had come back to Kewaunne to work as a sheriff, he didn't live with Aunt Jean. He got a cheap apartment with a couple other sheriffs. _Come to think of it, since Mom died, I really haven't had a home….not since I landed in Boston…_ Woody reflected as he climbed the steps. He had stayed in Boston almost longer than anywhere else. He raised his hand to knock on the door, but his aunt beat him to it.

"Woody!" she softly exclaimed, as she pushed the screen door open. "My God…Woody….let me look at you…" She hugged her nephew to her and the tears ran down her face. "What on earth brings you home? Are you okay…you look like you've been sick…."

"No…I'm fine, Aunt Jean…really. I just need to ask you some questions."

Jean looked her nephew in the eyes. She wondered when this day would come. She was surprised it hadn't come earlier in his life…she knew why he was here. "Come on in. I'll put the coffee on and I think there's some lemon pie in the refrigerator."

* * *

Hours later….the sun was lowering in the Wisconsin sky…slowly slipping into the west, Woody leaned back in the kitchen chair and sighed. He had gotten nearly all of his questions answered.

"So Uncle Lloyd didn't resent keeping us?" he asked his aunt.

"No…after Brad left to go in the service, you and Cal were a godsend. There's only so much girls can do on a dairy farm. Or that he would let them do."

Woody smiled. His aunt and uncle had Brad, the oldest. Brad wanted nothing to do with the farm. As soon as he had turned eighteen, he enlisted in the Navy. He was now a career officer. There were three other children – all girls. Amy, Michelle, and Robin. The girls, Cal, and Woody grew up together.

"I still think it wasn't fair that Lloyd wouldn't let you play football. I told him so many times…but he wouldn't give in. I'm sorry, Woody…so sorry. I know that changed all your plans."

Woody shook his head. If he had played football…he may not have ever ended up a detective…or in Boston. He may not have ever met that medical examiner with the whiskey-colored eyes and the softest lips he had ever known. "It's okay, Aunt Jean. Really. It was meant for the best. I could have blown out my knees or had some other type of injury and became a football has been with no career. I like what I am…and who I am. I just needed to know that Uncle Lloyd didn't resent having to take us in…that in someway, he wanted Cal and me."

"He did. He loved you, Woody. It nearly broke his heart the way you left Kewuanne, but he understood. He knew you had to get away to make a life for yourself."

Woody stood up, drained the rest of the coffee in his cup, and hugged his aunt. "Thanks, Aunt Jean."

"You're leaving now?"

"Yeah. There's another stop I need to make before Cal and I go back to his apartment."

"I wish you'd stay with me….I haven't seen you in years, son."

"I promise I'll be back. I just need to take care of a few things."

"One more thing, Woody. Have you met anyone in Boston? Anyone special? Cal keeps mentioning a Jordan…is that a girl or another detective you work with?"

Woody chuckled. "Jordan…definitely a woman in every sense of the word. And yes, she's special. I don't think she knows how special she is."

"Do you work with her?"

"Sort of. She's a medical examiner for the state of Massachusetts."

"A doctor…how nice. Any chance we get to meet her?"

Woody mulled that over in his mind. "I don't know…not yet anyway."

"Are you going to be here through Easter?'

Woody looked in his aunt's face. He had originally planned to fly back to Boston on Thursday and spend the long weekend with Jordan, if she didn't have to work. But the look on his aunt's face changed his mind. "Yeah. I'll be here through Easter."

"Good!" she practically beamed at her nephew. "We can go to Mass and then come back here for lunch. All the girls will be here. It will be just like old times…."

Woody glanced at Cal, who was propped up against the kitchen sink, rolling his eyes…_just like old times…I'm not sure if that's a good idea at all…._was the look Woody sent his brother.

* * *

"Okay. You mentioned one more stop. I bet I know what that is," Calvin said as they got back in his SUV.

"You're right."

"I'm not sure you should make that stop, Woody. She's moved on with her life."

"I know. I just need to know how she really felt."

"Does it matter? You were young….she was young. Her dad did what he thought was best for his daughter. You left. You've made a life for yourself in Boston and Jordan is twice the woman Annie is. Believe me. You got the better end of the deal."

"I loved her Cal."

"Loved. Past tense. It's water under the bridge of romance. Let it go. She's happy. You're….well, if you and Jordan can work things out, you should be deliriously happy."

"Just shut up and take me there."

Calvin nodded and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. For the life of him, he couldn't understand his brother's continuing fascination with Annie. Sure, Annie was cute…the hometown beauty queen…long, auburn hair…blue eyes. And Woody had won her affections years ago…his first love. He guessed first loves were the hardest to get over, he didn't know. He had never been in love…not really. He raked his fingers thought his hair and turned the SUV into the parking lot of a park. "This is where she is most days during this time. She takes Kelly to the park to play then goes home to cook dinner for Kevin."

Woody swallowed hard. Kevin. One of his best friends while he lived in Kewuanne. He had heard through the grapevine that they had started dating soon after he fled his hometown to go to Boston. Six months later, Kevin had proposed and they married within a year. Now she had a child. They were a family. He caught sight of her at the swings, buckling a small girl into them. The baby had her hair. When Annie walked around to the other side of the swings to push her small daughter, Woody noticed the slight bulge beneath her sweatshirt. She was pregnant again. If it had worked out between them…thatcould be his children. He swallowed hard. He could be a dad. He never pictured it….never thought about it.

"You going to go talk to her?"

Woody thought for a minute. "No. You're right. She's moved on. I guess I just had to see for myself. I don't want to upset her…not now. Not while she's pregnant. And not while she has her daughter with her. Kevin would kill me. I guess…I guess….

"You just needed to see for yourself that you couldn't come back home if you wanted to? Not come back and things be like they were before?"

Woody nodded. Sometimes his brother surprised him.


	11. Crossing the Line

**Chapter Eleven**

"So you're going to stay here through Easter and go to Sunday lunch at Aunt Jean's?" Calvin asked him as they ate dinner at a McDonald's back in Milwaukee.

"I guess that's the plan," Woody replied as he doused his French fries in ketchup.

Calvin grunted. "Guess that means I'm going to be dragged into this, too, seeing that I'm your main source of transportation."

"I could get a rental."

"Nah. I don't mind. It's been kind of nice…besides I owe you." Cal looked over at his brother…Woody had taken care of him for so long, it felt good to return the favor. He looked better than he did when he landed in Wisconsin a few days ago. He wasn't as pale and the dark circles were receding from around his eyes. He was more peaceful…resting better at night. Cal knew he was still taking his Prozac at least once a day and now he was beginning to understand why Woody had been on the drug for so long. Woody had never felt like he was wanted. He never had felt like he could please his father – the one person in the world that he wanted to be proud of him. He had felt that Uncle Lloyd and Aunt Jean really never really wanted him for anything other than just another farm hand. Woody had never realized that Uncle Lloyd had loved him. Then Annie's father…and that rejection. No wonder he had been on the Prozac for so long. It's a wonder he had emotionally survived at all.

"Umm, excuse me, Woody…need a bathroom break. I'll be right back." Cal got up and made for the restroom in the back of the restaurant. Going inside, he flipped open his cell phone and pulled Jordan's number from his wallet. He had no idea what she was doing now, but he needed to talk to the ME.

"Cavanaugh," she said into her phone.

"Jordan, it's Cal. Got a minute?"

He had her total attention immediately. "How's Woody? What's wrong?"

Cal chuckled at the concern in her voice. "Your Farm Boy is fine, Buttercup. He's doing better than expected, actually. I need to talk to you about what's going on in his head. I don't have much time to talk. He thinks I'm on a bathroom break in McD's, so listen quick."

"What is it with you, bathrooms, and phone calls?" Jordan teased.

"Just listen and learn…." He replied. He gave her a brief synopsis of what had gone the last two days. "He's dealing with what he thinks is constant rejection in his life," Cal concluded. "No wonder he works so hard in Boston…no wonder he needs the Prozac."

Jordan let out a soft sigh. "And I haven't helped things by constantly holding him at arms length the last couple of years. No wonder he turned to Devin…she accepted him and wanted to be with him…anytime anywhere. Then the Oxycontin helped ease the pain after she was killed…he felt like he didn't have anyone…even me. I blew it Cal. I really blew it with him, didn't I?"

"No. I don't think so. Let me ask you something…do you love my brother, Jordan?" He heard her sharp intake of breath before she answered.

"Yes." She had crossed the line. There was no turning back now…even if she wanted to.

"Good. Because I know he feels the same way about you. He hasn't said it in so many words, but I can tell. He's going to call you tonight and ask you to come to Wisconsin for Easter. I suggest you strongly consider it."

"I will… I still have the time off. I can fly out tomorrow, if need be. Did he tell you he was going to ask me?"

"No…let's just say little brother is getting ready to play Cupid." He chuckled as he flipped his cell phone shut. In Boston, Jordan just stared at hers wondering what on earth Woody's sibling was up to.

* * *

"You know, if I were you, I wouldn't stay here for Easter," Cal said as he and Woody got ready for bed that night.

"I've already committed, so I have to…but why wouldn't you?" Woody replied, curious as to what his brother was thinking.

"Why put yourself through a family gathering when you could go back to Boston and cuddle up with that hot, little ME? Why stay here with Aunt Jean, Amy, Michelle, and Robin…and all their assorted husbands and/or boyfriends, and kids? Can you even begin to imagine the chaos? And the talk that will be going around the church when you show up for Good Friday services and Easter Mass? Why make yourself go through all that when you don't have to?"

Woody groaned. He hadn't thought about the consequences of his promise. He had just wanted to see his aunt smile. But he couldn't go back on his word now. "I'll live…."

Cal continued. "At least I wouldn't go through it by myself. I'd call Jordan and ask her to come up for Easter. She said told me the other night she still had a week and a half off plus the holidays."

"I don't know…she may have plans."

"It never hurts to ask. Besides, if you need to tell her about your past…and why you had the problems you did, what better place to do that in than Kewuanne…the main portal to your problems?"

Cal had a point…and Woody knew it. But he didn't know if he could handle it if she said no. They hadn't talked this week at all…except for the first night he had arrived in Milwaukee when he called to let her know he was okay. Had he battled his demons enough that he could face her now? Or maybe she was the key to banishing them completely…

"Go ahead and call Buttercup, Farm Boy. I dare you," Cal said, waving Woody's cell phone in front of his face.

Woody grabbed it and swallowed hard. He punched one on speed dial. A few seconds later he heard her soft voice…

"Cavanaugh…"

"Jordan…it's me….it's Woody."


	12. Good Friday

**Chapter Twelve**

"Jordan…" Woody called over the sea of holiday travelers in the Milwaukee airport. "Jordan…"

She spun around and found him…God, he looked good. In a heartbeat, he had her in his arms, hugging her tightly. _Oh, sweet Jesus, he feels better than he looks,_ she thought as she held him to her. "I missed you, Woody," she finally said, pulling away to look in his blue eyes. His color was better…the dark circles were gone. He looked rested. He looked like….he looked like Woody. The Woody she used to know a year ago. With a glimmer of hope running through her body, she realized her Farm Boy might just be back.

"I've missed you, too," he said, gently pushing a curl behind her ear.

"Don't mean to break up this party, but if we want to miss the five o'clock Milwaukee factory traffic, we're going to have to grab your luggage and run," Cal said, as he pulled Jordan away from Woody's arms and into his own for a quick hug. "How's it going, Jordan? Miss me, too?"

Jordan laughed at the two brothers…Cal's joke and Woody's slightly indignant face. By the time Woody had called her last night, she had already had an e-ticket on reserve for her at the airport. She had told him yes, without hesitation. She would be glad to come to Kewuanne and spend Easter with him and his family. Her dad still wasn't back from wherever he was at and it would be a slow weekend at the Pogue. She had boarded the plane and came out to Wisconsin without a second thought.

"I'm sure spending Easter in Wisconsin has never crossed your mind," said Cal as they put her luggage in the back of his SUV.

"Well, no…but when you're invited by the Hoyt brothers…it's hard to decline," she replied.

"I just hope it's not all too much for you," Woody whispered, almost wistfully, to her as they drove back to Cal's apartment.

Jordan took his hand. "It won't be. It's just good to see you…you look so much better."

He smiled at her. "I feel better. I feel….normal again."

Jordan smiled back at him. That was the best news she had heard in a long time.

* * *

Jordan dressed carefully for the Good Friday evening services at St. Paul's. She had not attended church regularly since her mother died, but she knew Woody went to early Mass every Sunday. Her attendance was spotty, at best. But he had told her to bring a couple of nice outfits to wear to church, to the Friday services and then on Easter Sunday. She actually had shopped for the occasion, finally settling for a simple, black dress for the Friday evening service and a soft, pink outfit for Sunday. In her sleeveless, black dress, a simple strand of pearls around her neck, and matching earrings, she looked beautiful. But with her hair up, accenting her neck and shoulders, she looked stunning, Woody thought as she came out of the bedroom. He heard his own swift intake of breath and Cal's echoing his.

"Do I look okay?" she asked.

"You're beautiful," Woody replied, gently taking her hand.

"Oh yeah. Can't wait to see the reaction from the girls on this," Cal said, grabbing his keys as they made their way back out to his car.

"The girls?" Jordan questioned, looking Woody in the eye.

"I'll explain this evening," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Cal gave him an impatient frown over the top of Jordan's head. Woody grinned back at his brother and shook his head.

"I've missed something," Jordan said, her eyes narrowing at the brothers. Cal chuckled.

"I'll explain that, too," Woody said. The first day Jordan had been there, Woody had studiously avoided Kewuanne, instead taking Jordan to the brewery for the tour and a few other places…mainly getting caught up on what was happening in Boston. He had quietly promised her that he would begin to tell her everything after Good Friday services. She had agreed and asked no questions, sensing that what he needed to tell her should be done in his own time and his own way.

Cal had frowned even harder at him when Woody took the couch that night and gave Jordan the bed. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked.

"It's not the right time, man."

"When's the right time going to be?"

"I don't know. I just know it's not going to be at my brother's apartment when he's within listening distance and could give running commentary."

"Who knows -- I may be able to give helpful hints…but you'll never know if you don't get busy with the lady."

Woody had smacked Cal on the back of the head and settled down on the couch, wishing he was beside of her, just holding her, but it wasn't the right time and he knew it.

He hoped maybe that would change tonight as he helped Jordan out of the SUV, took her arm in his and led her into St. Paul's. Aunt Jean, the girls, and their families were already seated. He took a program from the usher and quietly sat down behind his aunt. Jean turned her head and caught sight of him. "Woody…you made it. I thought you were going to be late."

"No. I promised. Aunt Jean, this is Jordan. Dr. Jordan Marie Cavanaugh. Jordan, this is my Aunt Jean."

The women briefly shook hands and Jordan caught the look Jean passed to her nephew. Soon all the heads beside Jean turned to peruse the female medical examiner, but there was no time for pleasantries as the priest stood and began the service. Cal slid in the pew beside Woody. "Where are your parents?" Jordan whispered. She had figured that one of the reasons Woody may have wanted her to come to Wisconsin was to meet his mom and dad.

"I'll introduce you after the services," he whispered back. The simple beauty of the service then held both of their attention. After the last benediction, Jordan was swamped…meeting the cousins and their spouses…boyfriends…assorted small children….and other friends of Woody's from Kewuanne. It wasn't until later after the service, when Woody was talking to yet another old high school buddy, that Jordan sat down on the pew and looked over one of the service's programs. Easter lilies had been placed in the small parish church in memory of loved ones. The deceased had been listed on the back of the program. Jordan idly read through them, thinking in the back of her mind she needed to see if she could do something like this for her mother next year, when midway through the list, a name caught her eye…._Mr. and Mrs. Robert Lee Hoyt._ Woody's parents? Wordlessly, she stared at Woody, catching his eye. From his vantage point, he saw she had the back of the program in her hand and her face was asking a lot of questions he now knew it was time to answer. "Excuse me," he said to his friend. Walking over to Jordan, he sat down. "I think we need to talk now," he said, reaching for her hand and helping her up.

He led her out the side door of the church and into the graveyard, down the path, to his parents' grave site.

"Why…why….haven't you said anything, Woody? I mean, all those times I told you that you didn't understand…that you couldn't…you did. Why didn't you say something?"

"I couldn't. In a way, you had accepted your mother's death better than I accepted mine. I had so much to cope with after she died, I just never took the time to grieve her…or accept it."

Looking at the date on the stone, Jordan did the math in her head. "Five…no, four. You were four when your mom died…?"

Woody nodded. Standing there, in the quiet of the cemetery, in the cool afternoon sun, he told her everything about his mom…what happened to his dad….why Aunt Jean and Uncle Lloyd had raised him. About his too-short football career.

She listened in quiet amazement to his story, looking between the blue of his eyes and the cold, gray headstone of his parents. "So this … all of this…is the reason for the Prozac?"

"It was the start. Once dad died, I could barely function. The doctors put me on it to help me deal with my grief. It was experimental back then…the side effects weren't known. I just know it helped. When I tried to come off of it, the grief would overwhelm me. Then when I couldn't play football…anyway, things just got worse and I refused to stop taking it. It helped me cope."

"And then when Devan died…."

"It was like the whole grief process for everything started all over again. Not just for her. For me, Cal, Mom, Dad…and you. The Oxycontin helped even more than the Prozac. It didn't help me cope, it numbed me. Completely. To everything. To the hurt…to the grief….to you."

Jordan looked up into his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Woody. I didn't mean to hurt you, too. For a long time, I just wasn't sure…there was so much in my past that I was dealing with. Then it seemed that when I was ready, you weren't…for a relationship. I didn't mean to reject you…I wasn't…"

"You had to deal with some tough issues, too. I know."

"That still doesn't make it right." Jordan felt like she had irrevocably wounded her friend in some way and could never make it up to him. She shivered at the thought and the coolness of the evening that was settling in. She ran her hands up and down her arms. She hadn't thought to bring a sweater with her…she figured after the services, they'd end up back at Cal's apartment.

Woody caught the movement and took his suit coat off and draped in over her shoulders. "There…that'll keep you warm until we can get back in Cal's SUV," he said.

Then he caught the look in her eyes…and the tears that were gathering up in puddles beneath her lids, threatening to storm down her cheeks. "No… please…don't cry, Jordan. I didn't mean to …or want to…make you cry. Please…" He ran the pad of his thumb under her eye to catch the first tear. Before he could help himself, he was holding her face in his hands and gently brushed her lips with his. She didn't back away…not like she had before. "Jordan?" he whispered.

She pulled away then, but it was only to bury her face in his shirt. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Woody. I'm sorry. Can you ever forgive me?"

He wrapped his arms around her then…taking her slight weight against him. "What's to forgive? We both had issues we needed to deal with…in our own ways in our own time. But now, maybe that's behind us? Maybe we can start over?" He felt her nod against his chest.

"I'd like to," she whispered. "I'd like that very much."


	13. Happy Easter

**Chapter Thirteen**

Saturday passed quickly. Woody and Jordan ended up at the farm for a good part of the afternoon, with Jordan meeting the rest of his assorted relatives and getting to know Aunt Jean and the girls better. Finally, sensing she was just a little overwhelmed with his exuberant family, he pulled her aside and said, "Let's take a walk."

She readily agreed…letting him take her hand and lead her out to the back pastures. "Behold…all those waving fields of cheddar and brie," he teased.

"How was I supposed to know…I was raised in the city. The closest thing I ever came to a cow was the dairy section in the grocery store," she retorted. "Exactly how many cows does your aunt have?"

"Head. The correct word is head. How many head of milk cattle does your aunt have?"

Jordan made a face at him. "Well…how many?"

"Two hundred."

"Shit."

"Cow shit, to be precise."

They laughed together for the first time in what seemed like years. Propping with her back against the fence and looking at Woody, she felt like she did truly have her Farm Boy back…He looked healthy…and happy…and at peace. Finally. The haunted look behind his blue eyes was gone. "You're okay now," she said, softly, letting him loop his arms around her waist, her own arms finding their way around him.

"Almost. I'd be much better if I could possibly get a kiss…just a little one…and only if you're comfortable with it."

Woody hadn't touched her, other than a hug or to reach out and take her hand during the entire time she had been in Kewuanne. He had been letting the emotional dust settle. He knew they both had just let go of a lot of personal baggage and were vulnerable. But she had said she wanted to start over… He wasn't sure this was the right way, but she could only say no…and if she did, he could handle it. It wouldn't be rejection, it would just be the timing.

"I think I'd like that very much," she said, surprising him. He looked into her eyes…and lowered his head to find her lips waiting on his. It was a kiss as soft as the spring time…as gentle as the breeze. Jordan wanted it to last forever…

Until she heard a young child's voice call out… "Grandma Jean! Cousin Woody's kissing Jordan at the back pasture." He pulled away from her then, catching her up in a hug.

"Leave them alone, child." Woody heard his aunt's voice ring out. "It's about time…."

* * *

They were flying back to Boston after Easter Sunday services. They both had to be back at work on Monday. And Woody had a follow-up visit with Dr. Stiles. They arrived at the services just as the priest was starting mass, taking their seats behind Aunt Jean again.

Woody glanced over at Jordan. She was the reason they were late….although he had plenty to do with it himself. Cal had left to go get breakfast and for the first time they had been completely alone…even if it was only for a few minutes. Woody couldn't help himself….she looked beautiful, even if she was still running around in her robe, trying to get ready. He had pulled her down on the bed for a quick make out session that had nearly gotten out of control until he heard Cal come in the front door and call out… "Aunt Jean….Woody's making out with Jordan in the bedroom…"

"Leave us alone, child!It's about time," Jordan had retorted, giving Woody one more quick kiss before scooting back to the bathroom to finish getting dressed.

She looked lovely in her soft pink dress. It was simply cut. Jordan didn't really like a lot of frills and lace. And she had the figure to carry out classic lines to an elegant standard. She outshone and out classed every woman in that sanctuary, Woody thought to himself with smug satisfaction.

Even the auburn-haired small-town beauty queen who came up to him afterwards. "Woody…someone told me you were home for the holidays," Annie had said, greeting him with Kelly on her hip.

"Yeah. It's been a while. How are you, Annie?" he asked.

"Fine. And who's this?" she asked, indicating Jordan with a slight look down her nose.

Jordan introduced herself. "I'm Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh. I'm Woody's girlfriend," she said as she shook Annie's limp hand and hid a smirk at the young woman's astounded face.

Woody grinned. It had been a great Easter.

* * *

Later, on the long flight home, with her head resting on his shoulder, Woody sighed. It had been a long, hard week….but finally, his demons had been slain. They were buried. He was at peace. "You okay?" Jordan asked, feeling his shoulders relax beneath her head.

"I've never been better," he replied, tightening his grip on her hand that was resting on his chest.

"So…everything is settled?" she asked, raising her head up to look him in the eye.

"Everything but this." He dug the Prozac bottle out of his coat pocket and tossed it in the wastebasket underneath the serving cart the flight attendant was pushing by their aisle. He simply didn't need it anymore.

"Are you sure? Coming off those things can be tricky…"

"Jordan, I haven't had any since Tuesday…and I've done fine. It's over. My past is just that…in the past."

"Not the same man you were?"

"No, thank God. Not the man I used to be at all….a better one I hope. One that you deserve."

Jordan sighed and nestled her head back down on Woody's shoulder. "I just want you, sweetheart…just you. Just the way you are….just for the rest of my life."

Woody smiled down at her. That sounded good to him. She had made him a better man…and he owed her his life…he could begin to repay that debt now…without any ghosts left to haunt him.


End file.
